Meaf is the essense of flesh when served for consumption. It may be distinguished from
meat on syntactic grounds, although it is certainly inseperable from it.
Meat describes the edible part of animals in any of its forms, down to the meagre flecks of
ham that might render a salad unsuitable for vegetarians. Meaf, however, describes with oleaginous zest the superabundance of butchery that is brought about by a proper passion for cuts of just-slaughtered sustenance. Meaf, ladies and gentleman, is meta-
meat, such as might be served at a banquet of all-conquering carnivores. The
salty knuckle of pork that bobs in your soup unashamedly flaunting its ringlets of gristle - this is Meaf. An entire piglet skewered and twisting gratefully over the fat driven flames of an open
fire speaks Meaf with the uninhibited enthusiasm of infants. Larded loins of
game and lubricious lengths of
sausage are unambiguous Meaf of the first order, especially when served with a pork tiara.
Meaf is the epicurean scorn of a sensible diet and all that is implied therein. Meaf is the second helping taken when you're already full, simply because you
like the feel of scorched flesh against the ever vital buds of your tongue.
